What do I hate most about Palo Alto? Is it the fact that my wife and I can't go out to dinner on a Saturday night without making a reservation? The fact that even if we do get a reservation, we inevitably end up sitting next to a loud pair of Stanford pukes having a $90 dinner on daddy's credit card? The fact that the street signs can only be interpreted by people with a rare recessive gene that I don't seem to have? The total lack of convenient, affordable public transportation to anywhere with a semblance of human culture? The fact that the traffic lights are seven minutes long and always know when I'm coming? The fact that all coffee shops close at 7:00 p.m., even on Friday? Is it any of these things?
No. The one thing I hate most about Palo Alto is the weather. It's the completely unexplainable phenomenon that, even if it's pissing down rain, there is never a complete cloud cover over Palo Alto. There's always an obtrusive chunk of blue sky peeking through the darkest, surliest storm clouds, so if I ever think of opening my office blinds before 1:00 p.m., I will be blinded by the oppressive rays of Earth's yellow sun, seemingly magnified several times. I can only assume that the Stanford Linear Accelerator, that bastard step-brother of the Cyclotron, is actually blowing a hole in the Earth's atmosphere, leaving a gaping vacuum in the sky over our fair city. That's the only possible explanation.